The Baby Clock
by Entwife Incognito
Summary: Teresa Lisbon was at a critical stage of her life. Patrick Jane could see she was suffering. But why? And how could he help? WARNING! THIS STORY IS RATED A STRONG "M" FOR SEXUALLY EXPLICIT CONTENT. DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT LIKE THIS KIND OF MATERIAL. AU, where Red John is not a factor. DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything about The Mentalist.
1. Chapter 1

Why don't I get to have a normal life? Where is my husband? My mate? My children? My family? It was a blue day for Teresa Lisbon. She was feeling very lonely. Feeling that life was passing her by and she was too passive, too reticent to get out there and grab it. When did she have the time anyway? But as bad as she felt on these days, how would she feel in ten years when maybe she would be unable to have children? Hell, maybe it was already too late. The pain of that idea hit her in the gut and brought unshed tears to her eyes. She hid her feelings by taking a long pull on her coffee and turning away from anyone who might see her.

She wished they'd catch a case. Well, that was horrible. Someone would have to die in order for her to get her mind off of her own problems. How sick was that? Lisbon's brow furrowed in anger at what her train of thought showed her about who she really was. If she didn't change her life, she would have nothing except this job.

Seeing couples with babies hurt Lisbon on a level so deep that she often couldn't get the sweet pictures out of her mind and went to bed bereft and crying. And whom could she tell? Whose counsel could she seek? She had not even indulged in friendships, girlfriends that she could call late at night when she was truly overwhelmed. Patrick Jane knew her the best of anyone in her life now. No, for years now. But there was no way she would talk to him about anything personal, much less something like this. His teasing would be merciless, she was sure he would not be able to help himself.

Lisbon and Jane were the only ones in the office right now, both of them in the bullpen, Lisbon at an unused desk near where her team usually worked. Sometimes, when she found her own office too confining and isolating, she sought the quiet solace of the bustle out there. It was like white noise, and filtered out the droning of her own thoughts. She could see Patrick Jane stretched out lazily on the bullpen sofa, his usual haunt when he wasn't in his attic. Lisbon knew he wasn't asleep, but probably monitoring her every movement and breath. It gave him an advantage in his quest to always be the smartest person in every room.

Patrick Jane lay on his side in the cushy brown couch all his colleagues recognized as his own at the CBI office. He had gauged by her presence at a spare bullpen desk that Lisbon felt too lonely to work in her own office, even though he offered no company out here. He heard her breathing and sighing, her very discreet sniffling and knew Lisbon was sad, hurt somehow. It saddened him in turn, to see Lisbon on days like this when she was so agitated and unhappy.

He could guess at the sorts of things that would bother her, would bother anyone in this job. The department was of full of men and women who had eschewed family and personal life to pour their time and energy into this all-consuming job that so few others would be able to do. But her tears, her tears truly wrecked Jane's heart and made him want to reach out to her. Undo her loneliness with the deep love and affection he felt for her. Take her in his arms and make such love to her that she would never again feel loneliness, would know the place in his heart that was hers and hers alone. These thoughts and their many variations were his constant companions.

Jane would not do the things his heart drove him to do for Lisbon. She was technically his boss and a straight arrow to boot. A romantic relationship in the office would be abhorrent to her. So, he couldn't do what his heart would want. But he could get up from the couch and begin to move around, go make some tea, all as a signal to Lisbon to come back to her work surroundings and get herself ready to move on to the rest of the day. He would be there to spot her if she needed some help doing it.

He stretched and yawned, loudly proclaiming that he was awake and getting up. "I'm going to make some tea, Lisbon. You want anything from the break room?" Jane didn't look at her yet but got up and started out of the bullpen. That would give her a little time to compose herself.

Lisbon shifted in her chair, straightening her shoulders and put her attention on the spare desk she was using there and its stacked paperwork. "Yeah, Jane. Bring me a cup of coffee, would ya?"

"Yeah, sure. I know how you like it."

Somehow that little familiarity made Lisbon feel a tiny bit better. Yes, Jane did know that about her. And a lot more. He was her friend, certainly, in his own way. Not someone she could talk to about this!. But often a comfort. When he wasn't being a pain in the ass! A small, wry smile floated across her lips and then faded away. She sighed.

In a few minutes Jane was back with her "cuppa" as he sometimes called it. He struggled with the impulse to draw her out and maybe settle some things between them or enacting their familiar routine of bickering and teasing. He ended up doing an awkward dance that was both and neither. "Rough day?" he questioned blandly as he set the mug down in front of her (there were now three office hand-me-down cups on her desk). You never know. She might actually talk to him.

"What makes you say that?"

"Come on, Lisbon. All the deep sighing has kept me from getting a good nap." Jane smiled mischievously at her. "Are you in love?" He knew he was hitting close to home but he had to know if he was reading her right. He hoped to at least joke her from her mood.

Uh-oh. Jane saw her mouth draw tightly down and the sadness in her eyes increase. Well, anyway, Bingo!. So Lisbon was feeling lonely, as he had surmised. He had to move them on from this shaky ground. As much as he wanted her to talk, he couldn't bear to call up her pain again.

Lisbon recovered quickly and gave a soft little laugh. "No," she said. "Far from it."

"Oh?" In for a penny, in for a pound. "Fighting with someone, then?"

"No. No one to fight with."

Hmmmm. She wasn't following him out. How could he wrap this up without leaving her to hang in her loneliness, help her to feel a little better?

"Lucky you."

"Yeah." Lisbon's detective mind engaged as she took in the possible context of what Jane had just said. She looked at him skeptically. "You have someone to fight with?"

Jane laughed softly. "Only you, Lisbon. Just you. It's enough, yeh?" He sipped his tea.

"What? We don't fight. We just argue or disagree. Or I have to find out what you're up to and stop you from doing something stupid. Or pull your ass out of a crack."

"Oh, please, Lisbon! I have the lumps to prove it. It just doesn't seem like fighting to you because I can't hit you back. You're a girl." Banter. This was more comfortable territory.

Lisbon laughed now, but she winced a little at her own guilt. She had thumped him from time to time. Then she came back to put him on the defensive instead. "Oh, poor you. Boo-hoo. Now who's the girl?"

Jane smiled at her a little sadly, but Lisbon didn't see it. She had regained her composure and the office was back to normal. He wished he could step up and make it anything but.

Jane felt a little guilty. He knew he had the means to completely relieve Lisbon's loneliness by declaring his deep love for her. He knew Lisbon loved him very much, was almost mindlessly attracted to him, as he was to her. He wondered if she spent much time thinking about it, then cast that thought aside. Of course not. Attraction was one thing. An obsessive who still wore his dead wife's wedding ring would be an immediate write off.

Sometimes what he saw in Lisbon's eyes was profound, almost cosmic. How could he ignore the pull of the universe? He smiled ruefully at the grandiose thought. Jane wished to consummate their relationship by making such love to her that it would change both their lives forever. To marry her, for god's sake. Make many babies with her. How he dreamed of that life with his Teresa sometimes. Dreaming again. In that sense he was as deeply lonely and stuck as she. But she seemed more in need of love and protection. Maybe he was just being a man. He'd love to be her man.

-x-

_**Don't worry. I have a plan. It's going to get a little rocky. Hang on! -EI**_


	2. Chapter 2

Teresa Lisbon was definitely preoccupied. But over the last few weeks she had seemed happier, more energetic, even buoyant. Patrick Jane concluded that she had come to some sort of decision, but he had no idea what. He tried searching her desk, her office, her car but to no avail. Whatever it was, she was intent on keeping it from everyone else, but most especially him. She knew him well. No matter how many hints he dropped, commenting on her good mood, teasing her, no information was forthcoming. It was almost maddening to a man like Jane who prided himself on being able to suss what anyone was up to.

For her part, Lisbon was actually very eager to share her secret with Patrick Jane. She just wasn't sure how. Because she needed his complete cooperation. In fact, her whole plan depended on it.

It was when they were walking to their cars one evening that Lisbon found the courage to come out with it. She just took a deep breath and plowed forward. "Jane. I need to tell you something. Ask you something."

"Ask away, Lisbon."

"It's personal."

"Oh. Okay." Jane's anxiety level rose just a smidgeon. She never really discussed personal stuff with him. Well, not with anybody at work that he could recall. "Must be important."

"It is. Very important. To me."

"Are you sure you want to talk about it in the parking lot then?"

"Well, no. You're right. Let's go get a drink. I know a quiet place."

It was her neighborhood bar, actually, and they found a quiet booth to one side and got comfortable. It took awhile for Lisbon to build up her courage again, but Jane just nursed his drink and waited.

"The thing is . . . I've decided to have a baby."

Patrick Jane just stared at her, too amazed to speak.

"All the usual reasons a woman my age might decide to have a child."

Jane cleared his throat but could think of nothing to say.

Lisbon seemed to misinterpret his silence. "I've thought it through."

"Of course you have, Lisbon. You're a thoughtful, careful woman. How can I help?" This last escaped him before he had analyzed its implications. He sniggered a little. "Sorry. I really didn't mean for it to come out that way."

Lisbon chuckled nervously and said, "Oh that's okay. Because you can help, actually. I need a donor."

"A donor. You want me to . . . "

"Well, yes. If you wouldn't mind too much."

"You want to have my child?"

"Jane. Jane. Don't panic. It wouldn't mean anything. Just a way for me to have my child. We wouldn't have to . . . It would all take place in the lab. You would have no responsibility, of course. I can't think of anyone better than you. I know you. Your intelligence, your looks, your strength of will. Well, that part would be a pretty big challenge . . . but I wouldn't have to go for, well, Mr. Anonymous, you know." The last part of her sentence trailed off as she saw the storm cloud forming on Patrick Jane's face. Oh, no. She had blown it.

"Let's just stop at, 'It wouldn't mean anything, Jane.'" He paused and looked at her pointedly. "It would mean something to me, Lisbon. You'd be having my child." Did she have no clue how he felt about her? Had she given no thought to how much he had loved, still loved, his Charlotte? How could she ask such a thing? "I would have no responsibility? How does that work?"

He was asking a question. That was a good sign. "We would draw up legal papers to cover all that." Jane's reaction was not calm and inquisitive as Lisbon had, possibly naively, hoped. Okay, worst scenario, then. But she had to continue until she had an answer, even if it was no.

"You would be absolved of any obligations, financial or custody . . . or anything."

"What if I wanted responsibility?"

"What? No. That wouldn't work." Suddenly Lisbon was feeling a little nauseous, even faint. She put her hand to her forehead.

Why would she want such a sterile arrangement? Jane could see now that she was in extreme distress. "It's okay, Lisbon. Breathe now, just breathe. That's it. I'm not saying I'm against it. I have to process this, too, you know."

Lisbon looked up at him. "You're not against it?"

"No. I, I want you to have your child, Lisbon. Of course I do."

"Oh. Okay."

In that moment, Jane realized he could not refuse something so obviously important to her. Hell, he wasted that much semen every morning in the shower. these days. It would be as if he'd donated to a sperm bank. Only not anonymous. And to Lisbon. How could that possibly work? Jane took a slow, deep breath. "I can at least go in with you and find out how all this would work, right? It doesn't go down until we sign on the dotted line. So there's time for me to make a final decision. Okay, Lisbon?"

He had never seen Lisbon smile so radiantly as she did now. "Okay. Okay. I'll get an appointment."

There were several appointments. Blood tests. DNA tests. Lawyers. Documents. Jane and Lisbon stepped their way through the process. It was on the day they were to do the actual procedure that everything fell apart. Or fell together.

Agony. That was the process Jane had been through. Emotional agony. This process had highlighted his feelings for Lisbon so clearly to him that there was no way to avoid, deny or compartmentalize them anymore. No way he could deny his desire for her, his dream of them together, with a family. No way he could pretend to opt for this mechanical and empty substitute that purported to satisfy Lisbon but left him bereft.

He doubted it could satisfy Lisbon. She was just settling for what she thought she could actually have. She was selling herself short. He was doing the same to himself. It was the easy way out that was the hardest way imaginable. The way of pain and emptiness. He and Lisbon, without each other. Unimaginable. And he knew Lisbon felt the same way. She was just tougher and more pragmatic, certainly more stoic. At bottom, she believed he didn't love her. Why would she, wearing this damn wedding ring! Patrick put his hand in his jeans pocket and slipped the ring off. He actually felt good about it, like a great burden had lifted from his shoulders, from his life.

"No. No, Teresa. This isn't the right way." His shoes made a scraping sound as he stopped short in the parking lot.

Oh, no. Patrick was backing out. The only piece of him she would ever be able to cherish and have with her would be taken from her after all. She loved Jane. Couldn't he see that? But he had denied his feelings for her even when she asked him point blank. Fact. He didn't have real feelings for her. It was all her. All in her mind. Teresa stopped short, her head down, and began to cry. It was grief, loss. Bereft for what she would never have. There was no one else she could ask, even for just a child. She'd have to go to a reproductive center and be inseminated by an anonymous donor.

As the stark picture sank into her mind, Teresa turned away from Patrick and started back to her car, now sobbing openly, uncaring who saw. She had to get to the car before she gave up all control and just threw herself down in the parking lot in an agony of loneliness and despair. She could hear Patrick calling her name, but she wanted nothing to do with him right now. She could not summon the control to focus on him or his arguments. There was only her position for once.

Teresa opened the car door just as Patrick caught up with her.

"Let me drive, Teresa. You can't right now."

She didn't fight him, didn't want to, let him walk her to the other side of the car. As she got in and sat in the passenger seat, she registered him at a trot to get into the driver's seat. But he did not start the car. Instead, he scooted towards her until he was sitting over his half of the console and reached to pull her over to him in a tight, rocking hug. The embrace undid her completely and she sobbed against him, wordlessly spilling her broken heart into his shoulder and neck while he cooed and rocked, patted her back and stroked her hair.

Lisbon said nothing. Before exhaustion finally won, her head ached, her face ached. Her throat, her chest, her eyes and nose. It was as if the tension of months and years had finally flowed out of her in one great river of pain. After at least fifteen minutes of this release, she fell into a deep, but restless sleep, whimpering at first. Jane set her gently back into her seat, and then reached across her to grab the seat belt and fasten it quietly.

"I'm going to take you home now. You can rest."

-x-

_**This was a hard chapter to write. The next (and last), not so much. WARNING: THE NEXT CHAPTER IS RATED "M" FOR VERY STRONG SEXUAL CONTENT. If you don't like to read that sort of thing, stop now! -EI :)**_


	3. Chapter 3

Lisbon was floating, held in strong confident arms. Male. Her head lolled in his rolling stride. She hadn't been carried like this since she was a child. Unless it was a time or two when she got too drunk in college. The sensation was like being rocked to sleep and she flowed under the waves of consciousness at her bearer's next steps.

The key he had decided must be to her apartment opened the door easily, and Jane carried his burden tenderly inside to lay her down on the bed. Leaving her briefly to shut and lock the door he'd left open, he returned to find Lisbon still asleep. Jane carefully removed her jacket and shoes, straightened her body to a more comfortable position and reached over her to grab the edge of the comforter to cover her. When he was still bent over her, Lisbon reached in her sleep to encircle his torso lightly with her arms. It felt like a plea more than a hug, a plea not to leave her.

Jane's heart seemed to swell in his chest, which filled with a warm love for Lisbon, for his Teresa. He wanted to protect this woman, even from herself. He felt he had, tonight. Quietly, Jane removed his belt and shoes, pulling his shirttails loose. Then he crawled into the bed next to his Teresa and fell asleep himself, turned towards her with his face nestled in her hair.

Lisbon awoke briefly in the night to find Jane pressed against her side, his arm across her chest and his hand in her hair. She wondered how this had happened and then knew instinctively that he would not have left her in such a state as she was in last night. Her head still ached and her sinuses were dry. She could feel the puffiness of her eyes and her throat was still scratchy. She could use a drink of water but she didn't want to disturb Patrick. She risked turning her head to look at him.

Pale ambient light dimly lit the room from the kitchen. How beautiful Jane was so close to her, in sleep. His hair was a tousled, wonderful mess. The skin around his eyes looked slightly dark and bruised. When had that happened? Had he been sleeping worse than usual? So thankful for his presence in her bed in this simple way, Lisbon's heart felt full to bursting with love and desire for this man, her Patrick. But she made no move to disturb him and possibly change his simple, kind act of friendship.

Unknown to Lisbon, Patrick had opened his eyes, tiny slits in the dark, to find Teresa studying him. He could see love in her eyes and he thought he saw a desire that was quickly tamped down. He closed his eyes before she was aware they had been open. Both drifted off to sleep in peaceful contentment.

Morning was a little awkward. Lisbon had awoken and was getting out of bed, waking Jane. He lightly caught her arm, wanting her to stay, but she said, "I'm so thirsty, Patrick." Patrick. That was very nice. He smiled and released her arm, then arose himself, not bothering to reassemble his clothing right away, but heading to the bathroom.

He came to her in the kitchen. "I want to explain myself."

"No. I understand, Patrick. I was asking too much. I hope you'll be able to forgive me in time."

"It's the opposite, Teresa. You asked too little. Now I'm going to ask the right amount."

"The right amount?"

"Yes. Come here a minute." He watched her approach him in bare feet, her hair mussed, eyes swollen and lids half closed. God, he loved this woman.

He caught her hands and pulled her in close to look into her eyes. It was then that Patrick kissed Teresa, capturing her sleep-dry lips and moistening them with his tongue. Her lips parted as she took a breath of surprise and Patrick eagerly entered her mouth to relish its taste and tenderness. When had she brushed her teeth? Teresa responded with a passionate fervor that quickly made them both feel somewhat senseless. Patrick tenderly pulled away and, pressing against her shoulders, forced the two of them a little apart. "I have something to tell you, to ask you. Something important."

Teresa really wasn't in the mood to stop this encounter. Her blood was up now. The evening's turmoil and waking to Patrick in her bed, this kiss had set her at a different goal. But Patrick's words made her let go of all that to listen to him.

"It's personal, " he said, and smiled.

She returned the smile, recognizing her own words from their first "talk." What on earth was this about?

"Lisbon. Teresa. I want you to be my wife. I want you to marry me. As soon as possible."

Teresa knew she had heard Patrick's words but they shocked her. She just stared at him. Then she looked at his hands, his beautiful hands without the wedding band. When she looked again at Patrick, he nodded and said, "It's gone."

Patrick waited for his proposal to sink in. "I don't want to just give you a baby, Lisbon. A transaction in a lab without being a father to your child, a husband to you. I want you, Teresa. I love you so much. I want you to be my wife. I want to be your husband. With all my heart. Will you marry me?"

Tears formed in the corners of Teresa's eyes. They didn't fall, but disappeared somewhere inside a smile that beamed like sunlight, setting her entire face aglow. "Yes," she whispered. Then louder, "Yes. I love you, Patrick. I want you for my husband more than anything. I would love to be your wife, to have our children. Nothing could make me happier."

Patrick allowed himself a few moments to let Teresa's words, her acceptance, her love wash through him. It felt heady, cleansing, uplifting. It felt like joy. He could not wait to possess her, mark her as his own, imprint himself on her as she was already imprinted in his psyche as the last woman he would love for the rest of his life.

"How about we get started, then?"

"But, don't you want to wait for now?"

"No, Teresa. I don't want to wait a minute more. And I don't want you to wait a minute more for what you want. Not when I can give it to you. Now." He waggled his eyebrows. "And as often as needed."

Teresa couldn't help but chuckle. Patrick opened his arms to her and Teresa filled them, the new lovers blissfully and hungrily starting with a deep, kindling kiss. The air was near crackling with passion, with lips and hands that couldn't get enough of one another. It was hard for them to catch a breath, but they couldn't stop.

Perhaps not unsurprisingly, Patrick was a rather vocal lover, breathing a desperate commentary of desire against Teresa's ears and into her mouth, confessions of her various beauties and telling her what he wanted to do to her body. It set fire to Teresa's natural passions in a way neither expected.

After a moment, Teresa pulled back a little. "I want a shower."

Patrick smiled. "Can I come?"

The shower was foreplay, of course. Soap-slicked skin was a sensuous way to explore one another. Teresa's plump, firm breasts with their tight rosebud tips, her narrow waist and flared hips. Patrick's wide powerful torso and almost perfectly round buttocks, his beautifully formed male parts, which he never tired of rubbing against any part of Teresa he could reach. They experimented with everything on each other's bodies until neither could last a moment longer. They toweled one another off and collapsed together on the bed.

"I could never be happier than I am in this moment, Patrick."

"And yet you will be. We will be." He was on his side, lightly brushing her nipples with his fingertips. He tweaked one playfully and it forced her hips forward. Lavishing her breasts with his kisses and touch, Patrick soon saw her wriggling her hips frantically for more attention.

Teresa was blissfully distracted by his attentions to her breasts, but even more so by the proof of his passion brushing and bumping the side of her thigh as he kissed and teased and tweaked her nipples, reminding her how he had pressed and rubbed its introduction against her in the shower. Her entire groin was like a live wire, waiting to connect with what he would offer her.

He laid his hand quietly on her belly until she stilled. Then he rubbed his hand gently above the line of her pubic hair. "You know what's under here?"

Teresa nodded, looking at him through heavily lidded eyes. "But I'm thinking of what's in here." She put her hand around him and squeezed tenderly, then lowered her hand to gently trace the softer masculine outline below. She felt those orbs tighten against his body with pleasure as Patrick released a groaning breath. "Our babies are in here, too." She sat up and leaned over to take him in her mouth. She played his body perfectly bringing him to an erect pitch time after time and easing him back down. Patrick Jane was a happy, breathless man.

At the next lull, he pushed Teresa back and kissed her senseless, moving slowly down her body. As he approached her hips, the import of what they were about to do overwhelmed him with love. He gave it a voice.

"I'm kissing you where our babies are waiting." He placed soft lips near the creases of her legs, tonguing the skin over her ovaries, suckling it. The sensation and his words sent burning threads all over her pelvis and her need for him exploded. Moving her hips, she placed herself at his lips and pressed on them, opening her legs to accommodate him and laying her hands on his soft golden curls. Patrick wanted nothing more in that moment and laved her generously with his tongue. Then, moving slightly lower, he pressed his tongue into her, relishing the intimacy and the meaning of their coming satisfaction.

"Teresa. I'm kissing the place where your babies will come into the world to us." This made her nearly wild with desire.

"I want you inside me right now, Patrick. Now! Please."

"I'm right here, Teresa, right here, sweetheart." He moved to a better position and spread her thighs more open to look at the core of her. She looked pink and juicy as ripe fruit. Teresa pulled one of her knees up and opened herself further to him. The sensuous invitation made Patrick nearly mad with lust for her. He entered her slowly, curling his body so that he could watch as he moved slowly in and out. The sensation of her slid over him like liquid fire, enveloping his blood-dense flesh and sliding along its full length, ending where he was drawn up tight and ready to release to an ecstasy that would flood her and empty him, making the miracle of their children possible.

Kissing her now and whispering his love and lust into her ear, Patrick drew Teresa into the spell of his desire. Both were under the powerful control of sensation, nearing completion.

"You're going to have your baby, Teresa. Our baby. I'm going to fill you with everything I've got. Feel that?"

What Teresa felt was Patrick push in deep and, moving up and down against her externally, inside he was rubbing tenderly against the opening to her womb. "I'm so happy Teresa, I'm kissing where our baby will lie inside you." Patrick was totally into the act of impregnating her; it aroused him beyond conscious thought. All was instinct. Teresa couldn't help but respond in kind. This hot man, the love of her life, wanted nothing more in this moment than to make a baby with her. His soft wild grunting and short vigorous thrusts deep inside her started to build and blend into liquid and erotic wave. Now he was at her ear, nibbling, sucking, licking the lobe and breathing words. What was he saying? She stilled so that she could listen to him. "Teresa. Teresa. Oh my belladonna. I love you so much. So much. Let's make our child. I love you so much."

Teresa brought both hands to the sides of Patrick's face. "Tell me some more. I love your words. I love you, Patrick. Tell me some more." Patrick poured his heart out to Teresa. And when he felt her spasm and cry out in ecstasy, he emptied himself into her and blessed her for returning his love.

The End


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